


No Time for Pillow Talk

by holograms



Category: Lost
Genre: Jack gets around a lot, Multi, angst and tears, don't let some of the pairings scare you away, episodic, yes I'm serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he cries during sex, people don’t usually say anything about it.  Jack wonders if it’s because they expect it from him.</p><p>(or, Jack sleeps around with a lot of different people and has some emotions, and those who don't mention anything about it and one who does)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Time for Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> SO this started out as a joke between me and [julianathursday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/julianathursday/pseuds/julianathursday), saying that we bet Jack is one that cries after sex. Then the idea wouldn't leave. I meant for this to be crack but then it spun wildly out of control, and a bunch of different pairings happened and it got kind of angsty. I...I don't know what happened. I'm not sorry.
> 
> Huge thanks to julianathursday for helping me out and then reading this over to make sure that I wasn't too out of my mind crazy about this, and also for being awesome :)

**Oceanic 815**

The flight attendant catches his eye, and Jack is apparently intriguing to her as well; when he visits the restroom three hours into the flight she’s standing outside the door when he goes to exit and she pushes him back into the cramped room, quickly locking the door behind her.  She slips her tongue in his mouth and starts pawing at his belt, and he kisses her back because she is pretty and he is lonely, and the flight from Sydney is boring.

The sex is quick and efficient, and when it’s over he drops the condom that she had provided into the trashcan, then glances over to her.  She’s sitting on the sink with her skirt hiked around her hips, with a curious look on her face, as though she’s trying to study him.  Jack zips up his pants, looks in the mirror, runs a hand through his hair, straightens his jacket — all things to distract himself from the burning in his eyes. 

He guesses that she’s used hooking up with miserable men in airplane restrooms because she slides off the sink and repositions her clothes with finesse and gives him a sweet smile.  “I’ll be seeing you,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Sure,” he pauses and blinks back tears that threaten to fall, and looks at her name tag.  “Thanks, Cindy.”

 

**The hatch**

Their heated battles don’t go as far when they don’t have an audience, so when Jack and John have another argument alone at four in the morning during the shift at the hatch that nobody else wanted, it dissipates fast, and in the end Jack just shrugs.

Jack doesn’t argue either when John steps closer to him and suggests something in a voice that’s low and gravely, and he hates him for it when John is close enough for Jack to feel his scratchy stubble tickle his skin, he hates him for the way he feels his cock twitch and his pants start to grow tighter when John bites hard at his neck.

They strip off their clothes as they stumble over to the bunk bed, and it’s only then when Jack remembers, “The button.”

“Don’t worry, there’s still about seventy minutes left,” John says, and pushes Jack onto the too-small bed.  Jack regrets mentioning it because he could tell that John gets a kick out of Jack worrying about the button after all, the amusement on John’s face as he slides off Jack’s boxer briefs feels like a joke to Jack like _ha, I got you in the end_ and he wonders how much of a mistake that is when John climbs on top of him.

They struggle, grasping and breathing hard, both trying to be alpha — a true reflection of their daily relationship.  Jack wraps his leg around John’s waist and attempts to flip him over onto his back, but John takes Jack’s shoulders and shoves him hard into the bed, fingers digging into his skin.  John says, “It’s okay, I know what to do,” and that makes Jack mildly concerned because John says that he knows how to do a lot of things and Jack thinks that John Locke’s choices haven’t always been too thought out or very spectacular.

However, the way that John rubs his hands on his thighs, up to where he just almost touches Jack’s balls is kind of maddening and makes his breath catch in his throat, so Jack closes his eyes and relents.  When he opens his eyes a couple seconds later and glances up, he sees that John has the look of satisfaction of a predator glad that their prey has submitted.

John says that he’ll be right back, and Jack listens as his bare feet slap against the floor.  John takes his time and does not hurry — Jack imagines that he does it on purpose.  Unwilling to wait, Jack wraps a hand around himself and starts working his cock in firm strokes.  Moments later when John comes back and stands by the side of the bed, Jack glances up at him, dying to see his reaction.  John actually _sighs_ with something akin to irritation _,_ and then reaches forward and takes Jack’s busy hand away and says, “No.”

Jack groans at the sudden absence of touch and at the sheer annoyance, and looks down to see what John had brought back with him: a small jar of petroleum jelly.  He feels a tightening in his stomach at the insinuation of John intention, and says, “What, no Dharma Initiative lubricant?”

John chuckles, and he carefully rejoins Jack on the bed, forcing his legs apart with his knee.  Jack closes his eyes and lets it happen, because really, he’s tired of having to worry about consequences for all the choices he makes, and maybe he should be more like John and don’t really give a damn.

Like he could ever entirely _let go_.

Jack doesn’t have long to consider the consequences of letting John fuck him before he feels a cool slick touch between his cheeks, and then one, two, fingers stretching him in a manner that surprises him and feels slightly awkward.  He thinks of making a comment, _I thought you said you knew what to do_ , but then John’s fingers rub against a spot that makes Jack’s breath hitch and his hips jerk, his eyes snapping open to see John’s steely gaze glaring at him.  John smirks and repeats the motion, crooking his fingers against his prostate, and Jack realizes that he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing and that he just was teased.

“I hate you,” Jack says.

John inserts another finger, and Jack lets out a shuttering breath.  “No, you don’t,” he answers.

Minutes later, Jack supposes that John is right and that he doesn’t really hate him, because he’s enjoying the way John’s panting in quick breaths above him and the way he’s pounding rough against him, and he just craves more and _that’s_ what he hates.  He hates how he discovers that John Locke is a very attentive sex partner — he’s stroking Jack in time to his thrusts, and Jack folds his legs around him pulling him closer, moving in rhythm with him.

Since there’s nobody to hear them, Jack shouts out when he comes, spilling warm and white over John’s hand.  He lays there dazed and riding the aftermath of his orgasm as John continues to thrust into him, relentless and quick until he makes a strangled noise and Jack feels his release on his ass and inner thighs.

In the other room the sound of the number flipping on the timer disturbs the silence, marking another minute past.  It reminds Jack where he is, and for a moment, he feels suffocated.

When he cries during sex, people don’t usually say anything about it.  Jack wonders if it’s because they expect it from him.

So he’s grateful that when his eyes cloud up John says, “I’ll go get clean sheets,” and gets up and leaves Jack alone.

 

**The Barracks**

Juliet is like water; her touch is gentle and cool, but after a while she would erode bits and pieces of him away, leaving them to fade, like the sand of the shore flowing away into the ocean.

Jack figures that some parts of him could lose to be lost though, so he tumbles down with her onto the bed in a house that is surrounded by their enemies, and buries his face into her neck, a shock of blonde hair around him.  He trails his mouth across, leaving a trail of kisses until his lips meet hers.  She gasps and presses her tongue into his mouth, and runs her hands through his hair, nails scraping at his scalp.

She pushes down on his shoulders, subtle but enough to for him to realize what she wants.  Jack has always been one eager to please in all aspects of his life, so he moves down Juliet’s body, being sure to give each part attention — her neck, breasts, the area of her stomach right below her belly button where she shutters when he gives is a teasing kiss.  She raises her hips when he slips off her pants and underwear and he tosses them to the floor, and with haste he leans down between her legs and presses his mouth to her, licking at her entrance.  He soon learns what she likes best, what makes her hips jerk and utterances spill out of her mouth that he knows she tries to hold back.  She doesn’t say his name when she comes, and that’s okay with him; he doesn’t say her name either later when he comes onto her stomach.

Later, they lay beside each other, tired and spent, and he slowly trails his hand down her side.  His fingers graze gently over the angry red mark on her lower back that will forever scar her, marking her apart from those she used to call her people, and he thinks of the mark on his arm _he walks among us but he is not one of us._ They are similar, Jack and Juliet, but Jack knows that once they leave the island on that submarine in a couple of days that this now won’t matter — she’ll never look back, while he will always be looking for a way to come back and save his people.  (He likes to think that he’s one of them but—)

When he looks up at her he’s crying, and she takes his face between her hands and says, “It’s going to be fine, Jack.”

He’ll believe it when they surface far away from this place.

 

**Oceanic camp, Sawyer’s tent**

Jack knows that Sawyer has had to have done this before, because he’s just too good at it for him to not had previous experience giving another man a blowjob.  He thinks of mentioning it, but with the way Sawyer’s tongue runs along the underside of his cock, the thought passes, and his eyelids flutter.

He takes a fistful of Sawyer’s hair with one hand, enough to wrap around his fingers and _tugs_ hard because hell, Sawyer deserves it with the way that he had teased Jack until he had to beg, a pleading _dammit Sawyer please_ before Sawyer grinned that stupid dimpled smile and said _sure thing doc_ and took Jack’s cock into his mouth.  But when he does pull his hair, the result is unexpected — a deep guttural groan in Sawyer’s throat, one that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than pleasure.

Intrigued, Jack yanks Sawyer’s hair again, and at the same time gives a quick thrust of his hips into Sawyer’s mouth.  Sawyer presses closer to Jack, gripping his thighs hard, and the sounds that he’s making makes Jack’s head hazy.

Jack looks down at Sawyer’s head bobbing up and down his shaft, and he sees that Sawyer is looking up at him.  When their gazes meet, there’s a beat, and Sawyer winks at Jack, actually _winks_ — and that’s when Jack comes, spilling quick into Sawyer’s mouth, and Jack has to bite his lip from crying out because of the people only a few yards away on the other side of the closed tent.

His reciprocates for Sawyer, but Jack knows he does nowhere as well; it’s sloppy and he gags a couple times before he learns how the mechanics really work.  It doesn’t matter much though, because Sawyer comes within minutes, right as Jack’s jaws begin to twinge.

While they catch their breath, they lay next to each other for lack of anything else to do.  Jack feels like saying something like, _so, hair-pulling?_ but the expression on Sawyer’s face causes him to stay silent.  It’s a look of contentment and something unlike the Sawyer he’s used to; his guard is down, and Jack knows that it’s something that he’s likely to never see again.  And he’s right; within the moments he’s been staring at him, the essence of Sawyer-he-knows is returning, a crooked grin that distracts, a harsh brow that’s heavy with thought, eyes that look away when he thinks you’re getting too close.

Jack wonders what he hides of himself.

Tears start to sting his eyes and he knows that Sawyer sees, so he looks away for the sake of both of their embarrassments.  He hears Sawyer sigh, and there’s the sounds of Sawyer riffling though his belongs and then, “Here’s the goddammed meds you wanted,” he says, dropping a small duffel bag on Jack’s chest.

He had almost forgotten why this had all started in the first place: Jack demanding for Sawyer to give back the medicine that he had hoarded while Jack was away, Sawyer asking with a swagger what did he have to offer, a shove, an offer made in jest, and…

 

**The Orchid**

A thing that Jack is beginning to learn is to not make promises that he couldn’t keep, and this is one of them; he had swore to himself that it wouldn’t never happen again with him, that he could fuck around with anybody except John Locke.

And yet, he still ends up on his knees with John’s dick in his mouth behind a table piled with overgrown plants.  Jack’s sure if he told John of the promise he made to himself to not fuck him, that he might say that it was fate or destiny or something else equally stupid, and then Jack might have to kill him.

While Jack sucks him off, John is giving instructions _don’t leave the Island, you aren’t supposed to, you’ll have to lie to everyone_.  It’s crazy, and Jack can hardly tolerate it — determined to shut him up, he takes him further into his mouth, and rubs his tongue along the underside.  Jack laughs to himself when it works, and John’s speech cut off mid-sentence with a harsh _,_ “Jack!” and has to grab the table behind him for support.  It makes Jack feel like he at least has control over the situation that has spun out of control.

It doesn’t take much more effort to make John completely lose it, and Jack spits out what he can’t swallow onto the ground.  Looking uncertain if he should thank Jack, John tucks himself back into his pants while he again tells Jack what he has to do, what he must do for the Island.  His emotions get the better of him and Jack feels his face get warm and starts repeatedly blinking; it’s absurd, but a small instinct wonders if John’s right before he forces out the thought.

 

**42 Panorama Crest**

The first time he has sex with Kate, it isn’t how Jack originally imagined it during quiet, lonely nights on the Island; it isn’t in a humid jungle, there’s no threat of people walking in on them through a clearing of trees, and they don’t have dirt or leaves or sand sticking to their damp skin.  Instead, they’re hundreds of miles away from the Island (but who really knows where the Island is now, it’s gone, vanished right in front of them), behind locked doors, and comfortable between soft 800-thread count sheets in a house that Kate bought with settlement money.

It’s so surreal to Jack, and he still has trouble believing that it’s real, and that everything is (mostly) okay. That he can lay next to her, map out her body with his hands without the worry of constant tragedies (because he can’t think about the ones happening far away, where he cannot reach, he (thinks that he) has let go).

Kate curls her body around Jack and whispers against his chest, “I’m so glad you’re here.”  Jack presses close to her and cries, because he’s the happiest he’s been since he can remember.

 

**A hotel in L.A.**

He had figured Ben to be the same squirrely little shit when it came to fucking, but Jack quickly finds that he had assumed wrong.  His life has become a train wreck ( _plane crash?)_ anyway, so Jack clambers into Ben’s bed, separated from his own by the cheap standard hotel nightstand, and straddles his hips and thinks _let’s see what he does about that._ He’s definitely surprised when Ben grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him down and arches his body into Jack, staring at him with such an intensity that he wants to look away but can’t. Leave it to Benjamin Linus to turn the tables.

Then Ben’s taking off his stupid matching plaid pajamas while Jack strips off his own clothes in haste, quick enough before either can change their mind.  Jack’s pretty sure Ben is only there to make sure that he doesn’t overdose and kill himself before he can get back to the Island, but he doesn’t care — it’s someone that understands and that’s _there_ , and it’s what he needs right now.  Jack won’t call it companionship, but maybe obligation, and that’s close enough.

Jack tries not to think about it too much when Ben wordlessly turns over and props himself up by his elbows, and Jack doesn’t say anything either as he smears lubrication over his hand from a bottle that Ben had handed him, and then works him with slick fingers that have a direct objective.  The throaty sounds make Jack ache and desperate for contact, so he grabs a hold of Ben’s hips and enters Ben without warning him, and he knows that Ben probably wasn’t ready by the way that he lets out a startled yelp.  Jack is struck with the desire to plunge into him roughly, to not give him time to orient himself, to make it hurt.  But instead Jack pushes in and out of him slow, until Ben’s breathing is regular and begins to rock back onto Jack’s hips.

Ben looks over his shoulder as if to say, _is that all you’ve got?_ and not wanting to disappoint, Jack increases his pace, because will not let Ben taunt him in such ways.  It then becomes something not at all gentle, an aggressive rhythm that he pounds out, soon going into him balls deep, and Jack doesn’t ease up when Ben’s head starts to bang against the headboard with every few thrusts.

Even though Jack is the one that has Ben bent over in front of him, fucking him senseless, gripping his hips so hard that he knows he will leave bruises, he can’t help but feel like Ben is the one in charge, manipulating him into this — forcing Jack into being vulnerable in front of him, some calculated move to further his plans.

Jack decides he doesn’t care, and he even allows himself to choke out his name, each syllable hitting hard _Ben-ja-min._   He moves a hand to the small of Ben’s back, inches below where there’s a silvery scar that Jack himself put there.  It’s the only shred of intimacy he can muster.

He comes a couple minutes later, and collapses on the bed, exhausted.  Ben lies next to him, rubbing his erection against his leg, still aching for a release.  The little desperate sounds Ben is making is as close to begging Jack thinks he’ll get, so he makes the most of it.  Wrapping his hands around Ben’s cock, he strokes him from base to tip, running his thumb over his slit.  It only takes a couple times before Ben comes hard, with a deep guttural groan and his eyes squeezed shut.

Jack wipes his sticky hand on the bed sheet and turns over, facing away from Ben.  He’s dying for one of his pills but he feels too languid to move to fetch them.  He’s miserable at what his life has become; he feels responsibility weighing him down like an anchor, drowning.

He stifles a sob, and his shoulders shake.  Ben lays a gentle hand on his head and ruffles his hair before he gets up, the mattress shifting from the loss of his presence.  Jack hears the shower running, and it lulls him to sleep, knowing someone is close.

 

**1977, Dharma Initiative**

Jack goes over to smooth things over, to make sure that Roger Linus isn’t suspicious.  It turns into him accepting to sit next to him and tossing back a few beers and listening to his problems because hell, he feels like talking about his problems too; Jack wonders how he could work in _so then I came back to this island but thirty years too early and it turns out it was for nothing because who I was trying to help doesn’t want me to anyway_ without sounding like a complete lunatic.

He’s drunk, but definitely not as drunk as Roger when he initiates his come-on to Jack, heavy lidded eyes and a hand that roams down his body.  _Oh,_ Jack thinks, and takes a moment to consider the consequences, but he looks so pathetic and Jack is just angry and drunk enough to not care.

_Well, what happened, happened._

Jack laughs when he thinks that only days earlier, thirty years in the future, he fucked Roger’s son.  When — if, he ever sees forty-something year old Benjamin again, Jack can’t wait to nonchalantly say, _hey, I had sex with your dad._ The sloppy, horrible blowjob he gets is almost worth it.

His emotions are always the surface, ready to be volatile when necessary, even more so when he’s wasted, so he knows that his eyes are red rimmed, and his cheeks are damp.

Roger Linus makes a humming noise and lightly slaps Jack on the back, saying, “It’s okay man, you don’t gotta do it for me, I’m not a homo like that.”

Jack’s confused because usually when someone says that it’s the other way around, but he nods and zips up his pants and staggers out of the room.  He decides he’s okay with that, because he doesn’t really want to find out how alike Ben is to his father in that aspect, anyway.

 

**The temple**

Considering how long he’s been on this island and all the danger that he’s been in, this is the first time he’s had the cliché _fucking because we’re so glad we are alive_ sex.  Jack wonders why he didn’t participate in it sooner, but he supposes it’s probably because he was always too busy trying to solve everyone’s problems.

He drags Kate away from the rest of the group, away from those he knows and the people that he doesn’t know but who seem to know him, and finds an empty corridor.

“What are you—.” Kate begins, but he cuts her off by crashing his lips into hers, kissing her with all the ferocity he can gather.

She gets the idea, and she matches his intensity with gropes and touches.  Jack presses his straining erection into her hand, and Kate quickly undoes his jeans and pushes them and his boxers to the floor in one swift motion.  She discards of her clothes just as fast — toeing off her shoes and steps out of her jeans and underwear, tossing her shirt to the floor.

Their bodies meet again and Jack pushes Kate against the temple wall, one of his hands against the side of her face while the other teases at her opening, thumbing at her clit.

“Jack,” she whines, and that’s all it takes for him; he hoists her up and she wraps her legs tight around his waist and he enters her.

They find a fast rhythm, a frenzied slam-slam-slam, and Jack knows that there’s no way that the others don’t hear them with the way that Kate is shouting his name and him being just as vocal, grunting incoherent things between pants.  But he doesn’t care, he kisses her, and the way that she nips at his bottom lip makes his legs start to quiver.

He rests his head on her shoulder and picks up his pace, pressing his body as close to her as possible, their chests touching, slick with sweat.  He breathes in her familiar scent and he thinks that maybe, everything will be alright, that they can have each other without anything getting in the way, and that there’s no way he’s leaving her again.

A couple thrusts later and Kate’s orgasm booms in his ear, and when he comes moments after, _I love you_ sticks in his throat.

It isn’t until Kate runs her thumb across his cheek that he realizes he’s crying.

 

**Half a mile inland from Oceanic camp**

 “Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters, and she climbs off of him after having ridden him hard, fast, and without words.

Jack wipes a hand across his face, his palm coming back damp with tears.  Turning his head to look at Ana, he feels leaves crunching beneath his head, a delicate harsh crackle in his ears.

She pulls her black tank top over her head before glancing over her shoulder and staring him down with a look that he’s sure she used to use on criminals to force them into confessing.  “Why are you crying, what’s wrong with you?”

Jack considers it for a moment before answering, “Everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always awesome. As is flailing about LOST :)


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